Worst Case Scenario
by LittleMewLugia
Summary: Sam wakes up the day after his 18th birthday to find himself in the last place he wants to be. Then he remembers how he got there.....
1. Chapter 1

Worst Case Scenario

Worst Case Scenario?

Summary: Sam wakes up the day after his 18th birthday to find himself in the last place he wants to be.

Rating: T for references to being drunk and (stateside) under-age drinking.

Pairings: none (yet)

A/N After a big (non-alcoholic) party with lots of sugary substances, a friend of mine put a friend's 4-inch 'Sam' figurine (a Mutt Williams Indiana Jones figure) riding on Megatron in his jet-mode. Then she challenged me to write the 'how it happens' story. This is my response. The title is a WIP: I will write a short oneshot if anyone suggests a better one and I choose it: if you win, I will contact you.

Worst Case Scenario?

Prologue.

"Nnnngggg!" groaned Sam as he woke up. His head was pounding, his body was all scrunched up, and he felt very ill. Add to that that his bed was incredibly lumpy and hard. As he brought his hands up to push himself up, he realised the texture and hardness of the surface he was lying on was totally wrong to be his bed. It was smooth, and harder than any mattress. As he tried to gather his scattered wits, Sam remembered why he felt so unwell: probably something to do with the case of beer his father had got in to help him celebrate turning eighteen.

Yes, he was still underage, but his father had said that eighteen was old enough, by his standards, for Sam to "become a man." He'd bought in a case of beer, and he and Sam had downed several cans before his Mom and Dad had gone to bed, leaving him downstairs to enjoy himself and come up quietly in his own time.

He'd downed a few more cans on his own, and after that, he could remember wanting to go and see Miles, even packing several cans to take with him, but beyond that…..the ache in his head was too much of a distraction, and he decided he's have to take some pain pills before assessing the damage. His Mom had some Tylenol in her bathroom cupboard, and Sam hoped he'd just dozed off on his living room floor before heading out to see Miles. A brief trip upstairs and he could think again.

He rolled over on the uncomfortable lumpy surface, and felt himself come to rest against another lumpy surface….funny, had he slept near the wall? Then a voice spoke.

"Have you _finally_ revived?"

He froze, the blood in his veins feeling as if it was turning into ice. The voice was not his father's, or Miles', or Bumblebee's, for that matter. The last time he recalled hearing _that_ voice, it had been threatening to _kill_ him.

His eyes shot open, and he tried to push back into the unyielding surface beneath him as he found his view was composed of a huge, spiky silver head, with burning red optics and a mouth opening in a grin that was full of _way_ too many sharp teeth. Sam felt his clothes grow damp as he began to sweat, and realised where he was.

He was lying on his back, on Megatron's thigh. The lumpy surface he had rolled against was a carefully-placed hand that has prevented him rolling off.

Sam found himself unable to speak, but his brain was going into overdrive with a dozen questions. _'But __**how**__….he's__** dead**__!...why….but I don't understand…what am I __**doing**__….'_ And a dozen other questions started and died in his mind, as the memories of the rest of last night snapped back into his brain with an awful clarity.


	2. Chapter 2

Worst Case Scenario

Worst Case Scenario?

Chapter One.

About eighteen hours earlier.

"Hey, Sam, I got something else for us both here." Ron said. "It's in the trunk of my Porsche. Come here and help get it out."

Sam turned away from the empty road to help his Dad. Bumblebee had been called back to the Autobot base, but had promised Sam he'd be back as soon as he possibly could.

"Will you be safe, Sam?" he had asked in concern. Sam had smiled and patted the hood.

"Bumblebee, I'm going to be spending a quiet night in with my parents. If you were staying, I might ask you if we could bring Mikaela around, or Miles, but as you won't be, we'll get them round for a late celebration when we get back. I couldn't be any safer if we tried!" Sam forbore to let Bumblebee know that Mikaela had given him his birthday present in his bedroom an hour before Bumblebee had taken her back the night before, and considering the personal nature of it, he wasn't going to tell him later, either.

Reassured, Bumblebee had departed with a merry hoot, while playing "Happy Birthday" on the radio for his human friend.

Sam went over to help his dad lift a case of beer out of the Porsche's trunk and take it into the house. They set it down, and then Ron shut the trunk, and went back in.

"Dad, I'm underage!" Sam said, as Ron opened the case and handed Sam a can, before lifting the rest of the case and carrying it into the front room.

"No-one here will be telling, love!" said Judy, bringing through a brandy glass for herself from the kitchen.

"You're eighteen, you're old enough to have sex and drive. I think you can handle a few cans, son. Come on, tonight you're a man. Sit down with your old man and enjoy yourself, it's your birthday." Ron said, sitting down and popping open his own can with a loud crack.

That was enough for Sam, who hadn't been protesting, not really, he had mentioned it just to be sure Ron was really offering him a can. Ron had a habit of teasing Sam – like last year, when Sam had thought Ron was going to help him get a Porsche. So Sam sat back and cracked open his own tin, happily thinking that he'd gained so much more than a car that day. He had not only got a car, but a best friend, a guardian, a big battle on his hands, and then the lovely Mikaela Banes as his girlfriend. Of course, since Bumblebee had reconfigured from a junker Camaro to the latest model, he was the envy of all the guys in the school, possessing a highly desirable car and dating the most beautiful girl in the school. He chuckled. Who'd have thought it of the sports-hating A and B-grade earning class wimp?

As he swigged his beer, his eyes idly flicked to the TV. The news was on, and was still reporting on the oil tanker that had vanished, without a trace, from off the coast of Canada. Despite no signs of debris, oil, or crew members, alive or dead, the general conclusion was now that it had sank, without trace, perhaps swamped broadside by a freak wave, and was probably now lying with crew and cargo at the bottom of the Laurentian Abyss.

He was feeling comfortably drunk when, several hours later, his parents announced they were headed to bed.

"Stay up as long as you like, Sam, but be quiet when you come up." said his mom. Sam waited until they had gone up, and then started flicking through the TV channels looking for something to watch. Five minutes later, he threw the remote aside.

"Over a hundred channels, but there's still nothing but crap on the telly." Sam muttered as he cracked open another beer. He looked at his birthday present - a PS3 and about five games – and wished Miles were here. As he took a few swallows, he had a great idea…an excellent idea in fact. He'd hop in Bumblebee, throw some stones up at Miles' window to let him know he was there, and they could share some of his beers and play computer games all night.

He put his console and games in his rucksack, and filled two Wal-Mart bags with cans, then scribbled his parents a quick note.

"Gone round Miles' to play games. Back in the morning." He scrawled, and then carefully let himself out the back.

He blinked in confusion when he noticed that Bumblebee's usual parking spot was bare. Then he remembered: Bee had been called away. He shrugged. He could walk to Miles' place, he knew where it was, had done it before, it would only take half an hour. Hefting his bags, he set off rather unsteadily down the street.

He had only walked for about ten minutes of the half – hour when bright lights bore down on him. There were steady bright white lights, and that was not a problem, it was night, cars had headlights. It was the red and blue flashing lights and the siren that told him there was a problem, as was the deep voice that called out "Stop right there! Police!"

Sam turned to the silhouetted form walking towards him. The officer looked in the bags.

"How old are you? You don't look twenty-one, I think I'm going to have to take you in." the officer said, a thick-set man who looked to be about in his forties. Sam blinked at him, in the dark he couldn't be sure, but he thought he knew that face from somewhere. He was pushed towards the car by the police officer who now had him by the shoulder, who pushed him into the back. Unsteady as he was, he toppled over and struggled to right himself and put on the seatbelt.

As he did, he noticed a silver flash ahead of him, and turned his head to look. He froze.

Drunk or not, there was no mistaking the spindly silver form huddled in the footwell of the front passenger seat. It was that Decepticon terror, Frenzy, which could only mean one thing. Sam reached for the release on the seat belt, and the door lock release knobs, but neither would budge.

Barricade had Sam well and truly locked in.

The holoform rotated its head to look back at the worried human.

"Don't bother, you won't be getting out till I let you out, although it's a nice surprise to find you here, without your guardian to protect you, and with a legitimate excuse to pick you up." The holoform turned its eyes back to look at the road as he started his engine. A chuckle sounded, coming not from the holoform but seeming to come from the speakers.

"I know somebody who will be _very_ pleased to see _you_ indeed."

Barricade said.

"That'd be Starscream, right?" Sam said, surprised at how calm he was, and trying to stifle an inappropriate giggle. _'That's it!'_ he thought to himself. _'If I survive this, I'll never drink beer again!'_

"Actually, no, it's not Starscream." Barricade told him. Sam blinked.

"But then, who?" he asked. "You'n Frenzy are here, Blackout and Brawl and Bonecrusher are dead, right, who _else_ would be interested in me?" Sam asked.

"I guess you don't know about Scorponok, he'd probably be happy enough to meet you at the moment, the deserts of Qatar are pretty scarce of raw materials, he's probably hungry. You'd do, as fuel or raw materials go, he's used organic protein before, he could do it again." Barricade said. Sam froze.

"Mind if I pass on meeting him?" he whispered, still amazed at his lack of panic at the thought of being _eaten._ Barricade chuckled again.

"You won't be meeting Scorponok, he's still in Qatar at the moment and I'm not taking you there. However, when you see _who_ wants to meet you, you may well wish I _was_ giving you to Scorponok as fuel."

"I doubt that." Sam said. Barricade didn't respond, nor did he respond to anything else Sam said, until Sam said "Is there any chance of some music? There's nothing to see out of the windows."

Again, Barricade didn't speak, but some sort of music filtered out of the car speakers, and Sam listened in awe. It was like nothing he'd ever heard before, but it seemed to touch somewhere deep within him, and he liked it. As it faded away, he said "Is that music from your world? That's _brilliant_!"

"You _appreciate _music?" The way the question was phrased, Sam got the impression that Barricade thought all humans were incapable of appreciating music.

"It's _beautiful!_" Sam blurted out.

"I composed and played it." Barricade said, not boastfully or pridefully, but merely as a statement of fact. Sam stared.

"_You_…..composed _that_?" he asked.

"Do you think me incapable of creating, fleshling?" Barricade asked, but his tone was soft, not conveying any harshness, the last word almost said in an affectionate tone.

"It's a side of you I have never seen before." Sam admitted. "I guess I've underestimated you all this time. All I've seen of you before is the fierce, soulless killer you've seemed to be."

"Maybe I have underestimated you, human." Barricade said softly, almost regretfully, Sam thought. His perception was confirmed with Barricade's next words as he turned into the car park of what seemed to be a disused warehouse.

"It's a shame, really, that I have to hand you over." Barricade said, still in that regretful tone.

The doors all opened. Frenzy was the first to jump out.

"Get out, fleshling." Barricade said. The harsh note in his voice was back, the moment of almost-understanding had passed. Sam obeyed, although the combination of two large bags full of cans of beer, his backpack, and his inebriated state almost made him overbalance. Barricade gave a sound that was almost a sigh.

"I surmise that he is over-energised. Frenzy, help him stand upright and get him out of the way while I transform." Barricade said. Frenzy half-dragged Sam aside, and then held his arms as he swayed dangerously, but somehow Sam managed to stay upright.

Barricade swiftly transformed with the almost-musical sound Sam associated with the process, and then stooped, picking Sam up effortlessly, bags and all, and heading for the warehouse. Frenzy was left to run alongside, chittering in a tone Sam took as annoyance. Sam noted that although Barricade's grip was tight, he was not holding him hard enough to hurt him, or even burst the cans of beer.

Once inside the warehouse, Sam was put down, and spent a few moments trying to stay upright as Barricade said "Lord Megatron, I have brought you a gift."

Sam stood, and then the meaning of what Barricade had said connected with his brain at the same moment as his brain processed the information his eyes were receiving. His skin paled, he began sweating, and he suddenly realised he needed to pee.

"But-it can't be-you were killed-you're _dead!_" he said, staring at the nightmare silver giant with the blood-red optics who stood before him, with Starscream and several other Decepticons Sam did not recognise stood behind him. Starscream looked even more pissed than usual, Sam reflected, as he looked at the assembled group.

"Apparently your presumption of my state of existence is misplaced, fleshbag." stated the Decepticon Leader Megatron. "It seems my Spark was not quite as destroyed as you all thought. The explosion your kind hoped would bury me merely served to re-ignite my Spark, and the hydrothermal vents that the spreading of the seafloor created re-energised me enough to enable me to escape."

Sam's mind was racing, trying to find a way out of this, and that combined with the alcohol, is probably what prompted what he did and said next. He held one of the bags up towards Megatron.

"Happy re-animation. I'm supposed to be celebrating my eighteenth birthday, but I'll never drink all of this by myself. Fancy a beer?"

As Megatron and the other Decepticons in the room simply stared at him, the smile Sam had somehow plastered on his face faltered, and he crossed his legs as he put both the carrier bags down in front of him.

"And if I'm gonna die, can I go to the bathroom first?" he asked. "I'm busting for a whiz."


	3. Chapter 3

Worst Case Scenario

Worst Case Scenario?

Chapter Two

For a moment, there was silence, and then Megatron inclined his big silver head.

"Take him, Barricade, to a place where he can do as he asks. He has greater things to worry about than the pressure on his bladder. I do not want his own body's discomfort to detract from my own plans for this fleshy, although I won't kill him right away."

Sam felt Barricade's big clawed hand gently pick him up again, and he was taken to a battered and dirty toilet that looked like it hadn't been used in several months. This did not matter to Sam: he unzipped his pants and relieved himself, talking pleasure from the decreasing sense of discomfort in his abdomen. Strangely enough, Megatron's earlier threats were not freaking him out as they might have otherwise done: heard through a haze of alcohol they seemed almost unreal or unbelievable, despite the fact that Sam was acutely aware of what Megatron was capable of.

Once he had finished, he was once again taken back through and unceremoniously placed in front of the Decepticon overlord. He staggered and regained his balance.

Megatron leaned forwards. "What is the matter with the fleshy? Had he been this uncoordinated on the roof in Mission City, the AllSpark might now be in my possession." He got down to his hands and knees, and gave Sam a small prod with the rounded end of one knuckle: Sam _did_ fall over at the unexpected shove, sprawling on his butt ungracefully.

"I believe that he is suffering from the human equivalent of being over-energised, Lord Megatron." stated Barricade from behind Sam. "The cans of 'beer' in the bags behind him contain ethanol, a substance that in humans can lead to a lack of equilibrium, an alteration in the state of mind that can range from aggressive to euphoric all the way down through to depressed, inappropriate emotional responses, and in cases of extreme overdose, can lead to short-term memory loss, and ejection of the contents of their stomach, a condition known by many slang terms, but generally covered by the term 'drunk', which is their equivalent of being over-energised."

"You seem to know a lot about this particular facet of these squishies, Barricade." Megatron stated. "How is that?"

"I have to go on regular patrol to keep my disguise effective,

particularly around certain areas where the fleshlings imbibe this substance. I have seen plenty of examples of this state before." Barricade said, not bothering to hide the disgust in his voice. "In fact, this one is in a better and less disgusting state than many I have seen."

Megatron looked down at Sam again.

"Explain why your eighteenth birthday is so important to you – apart from, of course the fact that it will likely be the last such celebration you will hold?"

"Well, it's sorta a coming of age, right?" asked Sam. "We have several dates we mark as special –first week, month, six months, a year. Then it moves to five years, ten years – double figures you see- then sixteen and eighteen as coming of age dates, twenty as the second decade, and twenty-one and twenty-five as two more coming-of-age dates." Sam said. "After that it's confined to the tens – that is, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, and so on. Then, any age over a hundred is considered special, 'cause not many people live to be over a hundred. Oldest person ever recorded was a hundred and twenty-one at age of death." Sam said.

"You are like some Cybertronians I know." Megatron stated. "Oddly eloquent when over-energised, but stuck for words normally." He paused a moment. "You _do_ have pitifully short life-spans, don't you? By your standards, I am sixty thousand years old, give or take a few hundred of your years."

"Happy sixty thousandth birthday!" said Sam. "That and being reanimated, that's a cause for celebration! Or don't Cybertronians celebrate such things? Do you even _have _a sense of fun?"

Megatron scowled at the implied slur, but Sam didn't even notice, just held a bag of cans up again. "C'mon, live a little, let's share some beers."

"Very well, fleshling, hand the beer over." Megatron said. Taking the bag, he tipped the cans into his cavernous mouth, chewing them a little before swallowing.

"Bah! Barely enough for a taste. Payload! Go and bring some of that energon we converted from that tanker's fuel cargo. We are going to celebrate my re-animation!"

"But-Lord Megatron, if we do that, it means-" Starscream began, but froze as Megatron turned his scowl on the Seeker.

"Starscream, are you not _willing_ to celebrate my re-animation? Are you implying that such an event is _not_ worth celebrating? You are _happy_ at my return, are you not, my _loyal_ lieutenant?" The menace in Megatron's voice would have told even the most stupid that to say otherwise would be a very bad idea, and Sam could not miss the sarcasm Megatron laid on the word _loyal_.

Starscream's response was predicable.

"Of _course_ it is cause for celebration, Lord Megatron, I was merely going to point out that maybe Payload should be helped to bring the energon. We'll see to it, Lord Megatron, right away!" Starscream shrilled. He exited very swiftly behind Payload, who had sensibly turned to carry out the order as soon as it had been given.

Megatron brought his hand back down in front of Sam, opening it flat.

"Come, my little fleshling pet, bring your beer with you and I shall show you how we celebrate. You do not know the meaning of the word until you've partied Cybertronian style! I will grant you that little pleasure before I destroy you. There will be plenty of time for that later."

Sam climbed up into the great hand, unconsciously mimicking the actions of his great-grandfather over a century previously. Megatron lifted Sam up, sitting down himself with his legs out straight, tipping Sam carefully on to his lap. At that point, Starscream and Payload returned, the former with his arms full of eerily glowing cubes of pink. He put them down next to Megatron, as Payload emptied a much larger quantity of similar cubes onto the floor, and transformed.

Megatron reached out to grab a cube, as Sam pulled out and popped another beer.

"Well? The energon won't be here forever, we will celebrate my return to function and my sixty-thousand years enSparking anniversary." Megatron looked around at the rest of his forces, who all reached out for a cube. Megatron looked down at Sam.

"Would you say anything to commemorate these 'birth days' of yours?' Megatron asked.

"Yeah, we would. Some call it a toast."

So, how would you squishies say this 'toast'?" he asked.

"Well, we don't tend to return to function, but the birthday one will serve for both, I guess." Sam said with a shrug. "For us, it means 'May you have many more birthdays to celebrate', but what we say is "Many happy returns!" He raised his can.

"Many happy returns on your sixty-thousandth, Megatron." He said, then threw his head back and drank the can with only two stops to breathe. He had begun to sober up slightly, and had an inkling that he really _didn't_ want to do that.

When he looked up, he saw that all the Decepticons were doing much the same with their cubes of energon, except that they didn't need breath stops. Sam watched in awe as the big cubes of pink liquid were steadily drained by each of the big robots.

Megatron finished his first, which made sense as he was the biggest robot of the lot, and threw his clear empty aside. He immediately reached forward to grab another with his long taloned hands and drew it towards him. He looked down at Sam.

"Are you too overenegised already to drink more?" he asked. Sam shook his head.

"Not at all." He said. He looked over at where Frenzy had passed out already, half his cube still full. "He looks like he's had enough though." he observed.

"Hah, Frenzy can't hold it." Megatron said.

"I guess he doesn't have much room for it, he's small and skeletal." Sam said. Megatron snorted.

"Small things never can hold their energon. You'll be next, fleshling, you couldn't even stand up properly earlier." He said.

"You think so?" Sam said, his eyes sliding over to where another big mech, with a glassy panel on his chest and a face-mask that made him think of Optimus, toppled over.

"Soundwave never can hold his drink either. It doesn't help that he has a mental gestalt with all his Casetticons. He gets the effect of theirs too." He gestured at the inert hacker. "Frenzy, of course you know. Then there's Rumble." He indicated another spindly mech that could have been Frenzy's thicker-set twin with pile-driver arms.

Megatron's hand moved as Rumble fell down as well, to take in a big mechanical cat that was lapping its energon happily. "Ravage." As Sam watched, Ravage cleaned its paws as any cat might, curled up and shuttered its optics. "Laserbeak." Megatron said, indicating a metal bird that, as Sam watched, slid to the floor and lay there.

"The problem with a gestalt is that they all share to an extent their experiences, and thus the effects. So Soundwave is not just suffering from his own energon, but that of his Cassetticons. He has an excuse, whereas you, as the next smallest, are bound to be next."

"We'll see about that." Said Sam, cracking open another tin. Megatron lifted his cube.

"Okay, fleshling, let's see if you can match me, one of your tins for every cube I down."

"I'm joining in too!" said Starscream, who was eagerly joined by another who, except for his blue and red colour scheme, could have been his twin brother. They too threw aside their empties, and picked up fresh ones.

"Then, lets see who goes down next." said Megatron, raising his cube to his mouth. Sam raised his can and began to chug the beer.

'_I wonder what Bumblebee would say if he could see me now?'_ Sam wondered. _'Of all the things I thought I might spend doing on my eighteenth birthday, participating in a drinking contest with Megatron wasn't one of them!'_


	4. Chapter 4

Worst Case Scenario?

Chapter Three.

Only Sam, Megatron and the two fliers had participated in the drinking contest, those who were not already out of it being happy enough to drink their cubes at a more sedate pace and talk quietly amongst themselves.

"Alright, yuh can drink more than me, but ah wusn't the first one out." slurred Sam, unsteadily jerking his thumb at where the two aforementioned fliers were sprawled on the ground, as out of it as Frenzy.

"Yes, you surprise me, human." Megatron said, the slight swaying of his massive body and the alternate brightening and dimming of his optics the only sign of his own equivalent of inebriation.

"Then again, Thundercracker has always been easy to over-energise, and Starscream never knows when to quit."

For some reason, Sam found this hilarious, and his laughter was enough to send him sprawling in Megatron's lap. Megatron pulled him out of the valley formed by his thighs with surprising care, managing to pinch only the fabric of Sam's T-shirt with two of his claws and pulling Sam up by it. He carefully set him on his leg again.

"Can you even stand, boy?" he asked Sam. Sam shook his head so emphatically that Megatron had to put a hand out to stop him falling over backwards onto the floor, ten feet below. He set Sam upright again.

"Nope!" Sam happily admitted. "My legs won't slagging work." Megatron gave an amused snort.

"I see your Autobot guardian has been teaching you some of our expletives, boy." He said. Sam nodded cheerfully again.

"Yeah. We're trading words. When we run out of mild expletives, we're gonna trade swear words." He admitted with a giggle.

"Such as 'scrapmetal." said Megatron. Sam sucked in his breath, trying to seem serious and ruining the effect with a giggle.

"Ooh, what a nasty mouth!" he giggled.

"Well, human, would this be a good 'party' by your standards?" Megatron asked.

"Well, some music would've made it better, but then, I guess we're alright without it." Sam said, almost toppling backwards again but managing to save himself by grabbing onto a handy strut that was nearby. "I know it's traditional t'do summit special on your 18th, but I'm happy with this. Anyway, I'd say drinking with you counts." Sam added, who despite being blind drunk, still had some sense of self-preservation.

Megatron smiled. "Something special, you say?" he asked. He carefully picked Sam up in one hand and stood. "Fancy some 'fresh air' boy?" the Decepticon leader said, swaying slightly himself.

"Yeah, I guess." Sam said, slightly uncertainly. The big silver robot holding him turned his great head.

"Skywarp!" he called. The third flier, patterned in purple and black who was at least still online and able to stand, wandered unsteadily over.

"Yes, my Lord Megatron?" Skywarp said.

"Sam and I are going out for a quick flight. Put him on my back, behind my neck joint. Sam, you will need to hold on tight." Megatron tipped Sam from his big silver hand into Skywarp's only slightly smaller black ones. He strode from the warehouse, having to bend almost double to get out of the goods entrance, and Skywarp followed. The stride would have been impressive-looking if Megatron hadn't obviously been using considerable effort to walk and stay upright.

Woozy as he was, Sam _did_ notice that Megatron had twice used his name.

Then Skywarp stopped several steps back as the Decepticon overlord swiftly reconfigured himself from robot form to his sleek Cybertronian jet form, a form Sam remembered all too well from Mission City. As the alien silver form hovered in place, albeit tipping slightly from side to side, Skywarp placed the human on the back of it. Sam grabbed for the knobbly striations ahead that he realised were the back of Megatron's head processes, clinging tight, sliding his legs along some grooves so he was sitting firmly. Recalling the Mission City battle again, Sam recalled something very unnerving about Megatron's flying style.

"Um, look Megatron – er Lord Megatron?" he started, his self-preservation once again reminding him to be very cautious, and if need be, overly polite around this volatile mech. "Please, is it possible for you to fly without spinning? Not only would I likely be sick, but I might fall off, I'm not exactly at my steadiest." He said. He both heard and felt the deep rumbling chuckle Megatron gave in response.

"I do not need to spin to fly, boy, the spinning is a battle tactic which makes me more difficult to hit with ranged weapons." Again, Sam could feel the vibrations of Megatron's powerful voice as well as hear the words. "I won't let you fall, I could catch you before you hit the ground if you slipped off. Now, hold on tight!" Sam's hands reflexively tightened around the raised shapes they held, and suddenly, they were moving, climbing upwards at an angle into the star-spangled sky, the lights of civilisation rapidly falling behind and then below them.

Then Megatron levelled out, and Sam felt slightly able to relax. Megatron's neck and back were wide enough to give him some security, he was unlikely to fall off unless Megatron tipped to one side. Sam was aware that as his silver mount was the equivalent of drunk, plus travelling at high speed, that might happen, so he still held on securely, but relaxed the death-grip he'd initiated as Megatron had angled upwards. Sam stared around at the sky, chanced a look down, and whooped in sheer exhilaration as Megatron began a wide turn.

"Special enough, boy?" asked Megatron in what for him was a soft voice.

"Oh yeah! Wooo hoo!" cried Sam. He remembered all the special one-in-a-lifetime gifts you could buy people, like a drive in a racing car, or hot-air ballooning, or a flight in a helicopter, or piloting lessons. He giggled slightly. _'Only the Autobots have a snowflake's chance in Hell of topping my 18__th__ birthday present from Megatron!'_ he thought.

As Megatron continued circling, wide but fast, Sam realised they were descending, for which he was glad – despite his sweater, he was feeling very chilled.

"I hope they didn't pick you up on radar!" he called. "I'd hate the Army to send the F-22's against you at this moment!"

"Radar?" Megatron replied. "I am designed to be undetectable to many advanced forms of detection. Your 'radar' could never detect my presence."

Megatron had only barely finished speaking when a black shape slid in beside them, startling Sam. It _looked_ F-22 shaped. The Sun had started to rise, and Sam swallowed_._

'_Famous last words, Megatron?'_ he thought. Then he realised it could not be an Army vessel, not with it's purple and black livery.

"Thought I'd come for a flight too." Skywarp said. "Just because the rest of the trine are over-energised doesn't mean _I_ should miss out on a fun-flight." Sam couldn't find any reasons why the purple flier shouldn't fly with them, and Megatron made no audible comment.

Skywarp stayed with them as they spiralled down, but then, as Sam was watching, disappeared into thin air, or so it seemed.

"Huh? Where'd he go?" Sam said in puzzlement, wondering if he was seeing things." He heard and felt another chuckle from Megatron.

"He can teleport by warping space to create a shortcut through subspace. Why do you think he's called Skywarp? He didn't need to do that to get back, he was just showing off to you."

As Megatron slid to a smooth stop by the warehouse, Skywarp walked over and lifted Sam off, and then backed off as Megatron re-transformed to his robot form. Then Megatron took Sam off Skywarp again, and headed back into the warehouse with him, Skywarp once again following. Megatron sat back down, then looked at Sam.

"You are shivering, boy." noted Megatron.

"The speed you went at – the air cut through my clothes like they wern't there." Sam stated, his teeth chattering.

Barricade sighed, and quickly engaged vehicle mode, popping open his passenger door. "Come in here, I've got the hot air blowers on."

Megatron set Sam down, and he stumbled into Barricade's passenger seat. As stated, the hot air blowers were on, not at full heat, but enough so that and Sam quickly went from being cold to being comfortable. As he warmed up, they cycled down still further to avoid making him too hot.

Somewhere in the back of his drink-befuddled mind, he wondered why most, if not all of the Decepticons were treating him civilly. Barricade had offered this, had not been ordered to warm Sam up. If he had chosen, he could have left him to shiver, but instead provided this warm air for him. However, he was not about to _ask_ any of them why, in case doing so changed the way they were treating him.

The comfy seat, warm air, and alcohol all contributed to Sam's eyelids beginning to droop, but he woke again when Barricade snapped "I am _not_ staying in vehicle form just to let you sleep in me! You can get out now!" The snap woke Sam up enough for him to register the order.

Sam got out as ordered, stumbling from the tiredness as much as the alcohol, and Megatron put out a hand, taking Sam back and putting him on his leg. He carefully pushed down on Sam's shoulder with a knuckle until Sam was lying down. He met no resistance: Sam's body and brain were ready for sleep.

"You may as well recharge on there, it's as comfortable as anything else we have." said the silver giant. "It's okay, I won't let you roll off."

"Mm, yeah, g'night." Sam mumbled, only just managing to stay awake long enough to give a coherent response. He rolled on one side, yawned, and was asleep just a few moments later.


	5. Chapter 5

Worst Case Scenario?

Epilogue.

Sam continued staring up at the face of the Decepticon overlord as he finished remembering just how he'd got here. His pulse was racing and his throat was dry, and his head hurt….A sudden wave of dizziness and nausea had him grabbing for his head with one hand and closing his eyes with a heartfelt groan. He felt awful, and began to wonder if the prospect of imminent death at Megatron's hands could be any worse than the way he was currently feeling. Now he knew how his mother felt after she'd overdone the gin. He'd never accuse her of overreacting again now he knew what a hangover felt like….if he ever got to see her again.

Which brought his mind back to his current situation, not to mention the fact that he was sure he'd been in a situation like this earlier…fear of what Megatron would do to him combined with the feeling of an over-full bladder.

"Uh….mind if I use the bathroom again?" he asked, looking over in dismay at where Barricade had joined Starscream and Thundercracker in an over-energised, inert heap.

"You know the way, you visited it often enough last night." Megatron stated, lifting Sam down, still surprisingly gently. Sam nodded his thanks and set off at a semi-run, hoping his bladder would hold out till he got there.

Much to his relief it did, and he contemplated his dilemma as he relieved himself. He could try and make a run for it, he supposed.

Those hopes were dashed when he came out of the bathroom, crept down the corridor, and saw Skywarp was on guard. Even assuming he could creep past the vast flyer unnoticed, he'd have to cross the bare tarmac in front of the warehouse, and there was no _way _that Skywarp wouldn't see him.

No, there was no way out there, and Sam resigned himself to returning to the main warehouse, where Megatron – and whatever fate he had in store for Sam – awaited him.

He came back in, and Megatron picked him back up, placing him back on his lap.

"Did you enjoy your recharge?" Megatron asked Sam. Sam began to nod, then as the dizziness threatened to overwhelm him, and his stomach threatened to back up, he aborted the movement.

"Uuurgh…yeah." He groaned. He shut his eyes, hoping the spinning would fade. It had just begun to when Megatron spoke again.

"Well…."

Sam looked up fearfully.

"Okay, yeah I remember last night. This is where you're gonna kill me, right?" Sam felt like begging and pleading for his life inside, but had an inkling that it would be no good. As such, he decided, he'd die with some dignity. He stood, still a bit wobbly, and forced himself to look the Decepticon leader straight in his ruby optics – and was surprised to see confusion and annoyance in them.

"Do you think I would be so ill-mannered as to kill you now, boy?" Megatron asked. Now it was Sam's turn to look confused.

"Well – that's what you said you would do last night, but if you've changed your mind, that's cool, right, I mean that's really cool with me, I'd prefer to live, dying can _really_ cramp your style, y'know?" He was babbling, he knew, but he couldn't help himself.

"Actually, fleshling, I know better than you how much dying can 'cramp your style.'" Megatron said quietly.

Sam flushed as he remembered and decided to shut up, though he was still confused about Megatron's reference to manners. As if reading his mind, the silver behemoth spoke again.

"No, I guess you wouldn't realise, you're not of our world." He murmured. Sam didn't dare speak, but looked up with questioning eyes.

Megatron looked down, and chuckled.

"Sit down, boy, before you fall over." He said. Sam did.

"It is a Cybertronian custom that one does not kill someone they have been drinking with within a certain time scale." Megatron said. "It is not a set-in-metal rule, plenty of mechs have ignored the custom, but it is considered…..impolite….to attack or kill somebody within an orn of drinking with them. Of course, when it was created as a custom, humans hadn't even been thought of, but that is not the point." He paused, looking down at Sam.

"I may be many things that people find distasteful, but one thing I pride myself on is my manners. Thus, I am granting you your life for at least an orn – that is thirteen of your human days. If we meet again after that, I will be within my rights to kill you, boy." Sam heard the warning and swallowed. Megatron continued to speak.

"Some may call me foolish to put manners over revenge, but without manners, what are we all except savages? It is not as if the opportunity will never arise again, you still have at least fifty of your human years on average left, unless something else kills you first, ridding me of a problem in that way. For me, that is enough time to find you and destroy you another time, and maybe I will delay, so that you are always watching your back."

"Is that why everyone else was so polite?" Sam asked. "Do they _all _obey manners like you?"

"They know better than to do otherwise in _my_ presence." Said Megatron, with a slight growl in his voice. "However, it is probably time you were returned to your home, before you are searched for. We do not want your absence to reveal our presence, although we shall have to move once we have returned you, but this was always a temporary base anyway. Now, Barricade is over-energised, as are most of the others, and I cannot entrust you to Skywarp……hmmm, there is only one other option left. Gather your possessions, boy, and you can be taken home."

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

Bumblebee was frantic.

He had returned to the Witwicky house to find Sam's parents ringing around all his friends, desperately trying to find him. Sam's own mobile was still up in his room, but his games console and a lot of the beers had gone, and Sam had left a note stating that he had gone to Miles' place. When Ron had phoned Miles to ask if Sam was ready so he could pick him up (this was before Bumblebee returned), it turned out that Sam had never arrived.

Bumblebee was about to suggest to Ron and Judy that he go and take the route to Miles, in case Sam had crashed out along the side of the road en route, when something in the sky caught his attention. It was a silver flash. Curious, and alert, he extended his scanners, and the moment he registered the Decepticon signal, he jumped to full alertness, but he froze, when he saw the impossible. It was _Megatron,_ in his Cybertronian jet form, heading straight their way.

As the jet, seeming impossibly fast, drew up by the drive and hovered, Bumblebee registered the form atop the jet, and was speechless.

It was _Sam!_

Sam slid quickly down, as Megatron tilted a bit so Sam only had a few feet to drop as he slid down the tipped wing. Then Megatron shot off, doing a tight U-turn and then heading almost straight up into the sky.

"_Sam?"_ said Bumblebee in disbelief. He scanned Sam…yes, it was Sam, no he was not harmed, although by-products in his blood suggested….

"Sam?" he repeated. "Was that _Megatron_? Are you alright? Have you been drinking?"

Sam sighed, leaning on his yellow friend's hood.

"Hi Bee." He said, tiredly. "Yes, that was Megatron, yes, I'm fine, yes I got raging drunk last night."

Bumblebee was speechless again, a thousand questions going through his processors as he re-scanned Sam to confirm the first readings. He found one question to cover all of them.

"Sam, _what the frag happened?"_

Sam laughed. "I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you." He replied. "I still barely believe it myself."


End file.
